


Who You Are

by LovesRevelation



Category: Fable (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovesRevelation/pseuds/LovesRevelation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had lived a life of solitude, of pain and rejection for as long as she could remeber. Our world was too filled with cruelty and it killed her inside. That's until she woke in the world of Albion and meets the charming, yet devilish Reaver. *First story on here*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who You Are

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is my first story on here, so please understand if I make a mistake or something, I'm not perfect, sorry! I'm a huge, huge fan of Fable though, so I just couldn't help myself from writing a fan fiction about it. Oh right, don't own Fable or the characters or locations, just my main character. I really hope you enjoy it and please ignore the grammar or spelling error, this is some of my older work that I was dying to finish :) Recently I have been on this website called fanfiction.net and had my idea stolen, not this idea, from a nineteen year old. I explained to her that I hardly am good at anything, so writing made me feel good. She continued on with the story anyway, but now her readers were saying I'm a loser, I'm a nutbag, I need mental help, I'm a retard and some other things. So I ask kindly, please do not steal my idea or messages me these kind of things! Never thought I had to say it, lol, but yup I do :) Thanks!

Chapter 1: Redeemed

I haven’t talked with you in a while…and I guess that’s my fault. I could never commit to something and not get angry about it in the end. Then again, I can never do anything, can I? I give up because…well because it’s what I believe is what you want. I don’t know if it’s true, but I always think that my suffering and my sadness and my loneliness…and me failing was some type of reward for you. I think it’s your punishment for the constant mistakes I make…and…and that’s why it’s always bad and dark for me. I mean, the moment I feel good, the moment happy, it disappears…it leaves me like everything has. But why would anything want to be by an ugly loser like me?  
You think if you tease yourself enough or you cry enough, someone will hear and they’ll help. But when that doesn’t work…you start trying to help others, thinking it will help and you give them hope you never had. But no one cares. No one tries to help you. 

Her heart throbbed against her diminutive chest, at the clatter of footsteps growing near. They seemed so faint at the time, unheard with the echo noises of tree shrubs and branches chafing together, yet each shy second they were bolder sounding. As she strived to open her jade colored eyes to witness who was drawing closer, she found her energy drained from her petite size body and now a feeling of nausea emerged deep inside of her, making her want to vomit. It made her tremble rapidly, beginning in her hands and arousing to her legs. And there was a chiming sound in her ears, as if a town bell was let off at the moment. Along with the sound of feet, this noise was muffled too. And the words of her pray staggered through her mind.  
Her second attempt, now listening to the sound of shoes stepping against the decayed leaves creating a crinkling sound and right beside her, to open her eyes was proven successful. Yet, the beaming sun rays blinded her version, as they shot straight towards her eyes. It made her feel more lightheaded than before, so she quickly shut them, imagining this was just some abnormal dream and any moment, were she was at, would vanish and she would find herself in her room, wishing away for some type of miracle to be stowed upon her.  
“She’s been drugged,” explained a voice, unrecognizable to her ears. It was a deep, heavy pitch and much older sounding, possibly a man roaming in his fifties or sixties. “We need to get her back to my tower.”  
The girl emitted a small whimper of anguish and felt the man’s jagged hand embracing against her. She couldn’t see him, yet after another endeavor she saw a much clearer vision of him.  
Just like she assumed, he was older, considering his dread locked hair was a combination color of back, with specks of gray. And his dark colored skin had creases in them, but they were not visible unless you stood face to face with the man. Along with the wrinkles, his skin was imprinted with lustrous, blue lines formed into patterns around his body that seemed moderately well fit. Covering one of his brown eyes was a glass eye patch, isolating away the impairment from revealing itself. However, his other eye seemed quite fine.  
He was just another fabricated thing in a dream.  
She had no vigor to keep her eyes open any longer. She shut them again, considering she felt like all the energy in her had been consumed, and now she felt so tired and exhausted. The girl imagined that this was just a dream, a nightmare perhaps, and the moment she would re-open her eyes, she would be back in her room, in her bed.  
“Can’t you do something now?” a new voice chirped. This time, it was a female voice speaking.  
“No,” replied the man who was observing her. “I have nothing on me that could cure her. I may have a potion that will help her, but that’s back at my tower.”  
A new voice came into their small conversation. This time it was a male voice, with a mocking, scornful tune to it.  
This voice though, it sounded ever so proverbial to the girl. But it couldn’t be the person she was thinking about. He being there was impossible!  
“Ohhh, such a pity,” the male voice lied, “now all that’s left to do is leave her with the nasties that roam these forests.”  
“Don’t be like that Reaver,” said a new voice. It was another male, he sounded so pure and innocuous, much like a voice of a saint. “Garth’s right, we need to get her back to the tower. And we’re wasting time just standing here.”  
The girl whined a little at all the noise. Garth? Reaver? She had never heard such names in her life. Their names were actually absurd in her view, more like the kind you would see in a fairy tale saga. Who would ever give someone the name Reaver? That wasn’t a common name!  
But, this was a dream, and they were just made up. She wasn’t really with them; this was just all occurring in her sleep. So she thought.  
“Sparrow’s right. We need to get her back there, fast!” the female voice exclaimed.  
Sparrow that was a bird, not a name for a person! How peculiar was this place, or where ever she was at, that people would be named after birds, historic names, and well, the oddest names ever!  
The girl didn’t have sufficient amount of time to think. Instead she was lifted off the uncomfortable ground, layered with grime and rocks, and into the arms of a person. This dream was beyond words. She could feel pain in it, she felt nauseas and queasy, now she could feel someone touching her. In all her dreams she had never experienced something like this.  
Perhaps it was time for her to wake up. This pain inside of her was becoming more agonizing by the blossoming second, and now all she could feel was giddy, and dizzy like she was about to pass out again.  
She did.

With a slight moan, and her eyes convulsing, the girl awoke. She felt incredibly healthier and in good condition than she did in that unordinary dream. Her lifeless body now felt energy flowing through her once unresponsive self. She sat upon the firm mattress she was laying on and abruptly felt a strange vive.  
The girl was confident that she would look up, and see her daily room. Her bed right next to the dull, white wall, with her dresser on the other side. That boring, boring room that lacked so much color.  
But that’s not what she saw. Now, she was laying on this tattered bed that looked so rickety it could fall apart. And the quilt on it was gray, with a few patches on it. This wasn’t her normal bed! This room, it wasn’t her’s!  
There were nenormous clocks on the east wall, in the corner of it, ticking away. They were right next to a fire place that had a wooden chair across from it. And in the corner of the room was enormous statue of a man with a scroll in his hands. This room, it had the strangest décor to it.  
The girl swung her legs across the bed, still with her eyes focusing on the room. This furniture was so unmodern to her. There were these eerie green potion, scrolls, statues, unrecognizable people with the oddest names, it’s like she had been tossed in centuries past! Not even like that! Potions, was she in a fabled world?  
She moved to the middle of the room, silently. Nothing came out of her mouth. No words, no sounds, just the silent beat of her heart. She stood there with no expression on her face, just a dull, plain look. It would be indistinct to know what she was thinking about. She wasn’t dazed. She wasn’t in apprehension. Nor was she confused.  
“Ah, it looks like our dear stranger has awakened,” the familiar mocking voice smirked.  
The girl quickly curved her small head, to the wooden staircase that was slammed up next to the wall. There, on the stairs, stood a young, brown hair man, who seemed ever so charming and handsome, to the girl he seemed like that. Never had she witness such a man with such lovely looks.  
“Who…who are you?” asked the girl, her voice was a soft whisper.  
“Me!” he exclaimed, while setting his hand on his chest. On his face, the look was shock that she didn’t know who he was. “You really don’t know who I am?”  
She slowly shook her head.  
“Well, I must say I’m insulted,” the man said, as he scampered down the steps, approaching her. “If you must know, I am Reaver. Perhaps the name rings a bell in that pretty head of yours. It should, considering I am one of the most heard about people in all of Albion.”  
In her opinion, he was acting if he was God himself. He seemed so self-centered, as if the world had to revolve around him each minute of everyday. Arrogant, that seemed to be a word that described him well.  
“I’m sorry,” she quietly said, “I don’t know who you are.”  
Reaver sighed with disappointment. “No need for the apologies, my little minx. For once, I being so irrelevant could be my fault,” he muttered, while shaking his head. “You see, I was schemed into this shenanigan and now, I have to stay in this slum.”  
She looked around the room after his comment. It seemed a little more mysterious to her, then a rundown shack, like this Reaver was acting like it was.  
“So of course, I cannot share my glorious presences,” he continued to blabber on about himself, “to the rest of the world because I’m trapped in this damn tower.” Reaver thought for a few shy seconds. “But then again, nothing is my fault, so it’s actually that ignorant swine Sparrow who should be blamed. Considering he did drag me into this mess.”  
It was hard to know if this man was actually being genuine. Everyone word was wrapped in the sound of sarcasm and he never took fault for anything! A part of the girl wished she had his ability to do that. What she would do to stop blaming herself for every mistake made in life, and not always carry that burden of thinking that.  
“Where am I?” she asked.  
It was with that word that Reaver quickly took notice that she had a speech impediment with the r sound. They made more of a w pronunciation. None the less, he actually found it quite adorable in his taste. Her voice was very cute sounding to him, like a little child.  
Though she wasn’t actually a child, to his estimated guess she was around fourteen. That age was much different than his own. And very young to do what he would so happily do to other women. But he could maybe the bend rules a little.  
After all, this girl was quite young, but rather cute looking to him.  
Her pale, fair, milky colored skin and those crystal emerald eyes were so exotic to the pirate, he could never say no to her. And that sleek, straight, golden hair was irresistible  
“You are in a tower, specfically,” he answered, with a wicked sneer on his face.  
She chuckled a little at the remark.  
Reaver found it outlandish that she did not seem a bit worried, or curious that she was no longer in her regular home. To his notice, she didn’t look scared that she was alone in the woods, with someone she had never knew. Panic would be a usual thing to do, but not her. Rather shocking, but Reaver just ignored it.  
“No, I mean what country?” asked the girl.  
“Country? My dear, are you numbskulled that you don’t have the slightest clue what country you’re at?” he asked.  
She shrugged a bit at the question, and then with another slight chuckle, she said, “I’m not actually that smart so…maybe. I mean everyone does call me stupid and retarded, so yeah I might be.”  
She amused Reaver very much. For the most unknown reason, he enjoyed girls with lower self esteem much more than one who loved their selves. The ones who loved themselves were always annoying to him, considering they had to rammble on about how amazing they were, and not about him. How dare they, he always wondered.  
“That’s quite alright, my little minx. Do not worry your pretty little head about your intelligents,” he reassured her, while waving his right hand. “I’ve met far worse imbeciles than you, and in the nearby future will meet many more.” He started to walk out of the room, to the huge balcony, with the girl following right behind. “Going back to the question that you so crave for an answer, you are in Brightwood. Albion’s horrid woods, that only has travelers passing by, and believe me, they aren’t very fun to shoot.”  
Her eyebrows rosed up at his last comment, and her eye opened two times wider than they were. She had never notice the shiny gun that was shoved in his holster.  
Noticing her attention on his precious gun, Reaver pulled it out. “Admiring my weaponary, are you?” he asked, while setting it into her open hands. “Remember this moment, my dear girl; you probably won’t ever have the chance to hold this rare gun ever again.”  
The girl studied each inch of this rare gun that Reaver seemed to have a love obssesion with. She was never fond with weapons, considering she had never owned one in her house before. “It’s nice,” she agreed.  
“Nice? Of all the words you could drescribe the magnificent Dragonstomper 48. you use the simple term nice!” he exclaimed. It was hard to know wether or not the pirate was more insulted by the fact she didn’t know who he was, or by the fact that she used a word like nice to describe this precious, rare gun that only six were ever made!  
“No…no it’s great,” chuckled the girl, handing the gun back to it’s rightful owner and watching him gently set it back into the holster. “It’s just that I never used one before.”  
“Oh, well prehaps if my compaions tend to keep you, I’ll show you how to be an expert like me,” said Reaver, then putting his hand on his chest. “After all, there could be no better teacher for such a quality. And if there was, I’d kill them.”  
“Okay,” she said, ignoring the remark that made her think he was a psychopath.  
“Splendid, I just hope for your sake you are a quick learner. Oh, and before we were having this wondrous conversation about how amazing I am, I never caught your name.”  
“Me…well I’m Kendra.”

**Author's Note:**

> You're still reading? This far! Wow, you deserve an award to deal with my awful story =) Lol! But thanks for reading, if you do enjoy it, please leave a comment and I'll try to have the next chapter up soon! Sorry about my grammar, OOC and spelling, I'm a young writer. And sorry, I ramble with my author's notes! Lol. Thanks everyone ^_^


End file.
